


The Coronation Part I

by tofu_sama90



Series: The Coronation [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bard - Freeform, Barduil - Freeform, Comfort, Comforting Thranduil, Coronation, Destiny, Expectations, Fate, King Bard, M/M, Nervousness, Thranduil - Freeform, Thranduil gives advice, dragonslayer, gathering courage, worrying bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofu_sama90/pseuds/tofu_sama90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard paces around the Great Hall anticipating his coronation. The weight of the new position makes him anxious as he decides whether or not he's up to the task. Thranduil gives comfort and some helpful advice.<br/>---</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coronation Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic! As this ship slowly starts to corrupt my mind and replace all my thoughts, my want to write grows. So I hope you all enjoy!

Bard paced the great hall of Dale. The Battle of the Five Armies was far behind and Dale was starting to get back on its feet. The people looked to him now. The people were looking to Bard.

            Bard recalled the day the dragon Smaug reeked havoc on Laketown. Even now he could feel the dragon’s breath and hear his taunting words as he looked into the bargeman’s eyes. The orange glow pierced Bard’s heart with fear and the heat of the flames around him were ready to swallow both Bard and his son Bain.

            They called him Dragonslayer now and as of today, the new people of Dale were ready to crown Bard king. Bard knew this would be a change for the better for his family. The people would have a leader, and Bard would have full recognition in all of Middle Earth, for here is Bard, King of Dale, Dragonslayer.

            Bard looked at the throne before him. The hollow chair seemed to look down on Bard, glaring down at him and all of the responsibility that would be weighted upon his shoulders. He sat upon the throne for a moment, looking out into the great hall. Banners were woven lining the pathway to the throne all of them bearing the symbol of a black arrow piercing the dragon Smaug.

            Bard immediately sprung up from the throne and turned around to look down upon it, eyes furrowed, troubled at the events that were to take place the next morning.

            “I am no king.” Bard said out loud. His harsh whisper echoed the room. “I am merely a poor bargeman.”

            “This is who you were meant to become, Bard.” A voice echoed behind Bard. Bard spun around to see the slender figure of the elvenking, Thranduil. His silvery hair shimmered in the glints of light that seeped through the windows of the Great Hall. Thranduil came out from behind the Throne and gently ran his long fingers over the headrest.

            “King Thranduil,” Bard said surprised. He was always taken aback when he witnessed Thranduil’s form unexpectedly. The grace and fair beauty of the elf had always taken Bard back into his thoughts, and all worries and cares left Bard’s body when he laid eyes on Thranduil.

            Thranduil came closer to Bard who shifted his gaze back upon the throne. Thranduil, now only a step away from Bard, reached out a hand to caress Bard’s cheek. He wiped a thumb over Bard’s cheek and looked at the distress in the Dragonslayer’s eyes. Though all the people of Dale Bard slayed Smaug in the most gallant of ways, Thranduil could see the terror and fear that that fateful act befell. Bard’s eyes were tired. They’d witnessed dragonfire, and saw his own son’s petrified eyes as he used him to slay the dragon.

            Bard held Thranduil’s hand, embracing it further in to his cheek. Thranduil’s hands were cold against Bard’s cheek, but the coolness seemed to wash over him, soothing his worries.

            “Thranduil,” Bard murmured. “I am no king.”

            “You are scared, meleth nin,” Thranduil replies with a calm expression. “You are the Dragonslayer. The people look up to you. They are waiting your command.”

            “But that is what I fear.” Bard started to pace slightly. “I am merely a poor bargeman. How do they expect me to lead them, pick up the ruins of this accursed city and rule them into prosperity again? Look around, Thranduil! We’re still refugees. We have barely enough means to almost begin to get back on our feet and they want to crown me king.” Bard’s voice rose, sending trembles through the great hall. Thranduil remained unstirred. He simply looked at his love in tenderness.

            Bard looked at Thranduil almost demanding an answer, demanding an indication for Thranduil to agree with him. “You have been king for hundreds of years,” Bard said with a sense of indignation. “What do you suggest?”

            Thranduil simply raised his head in the regal way he did. If he was fazed by Bard’s indignation, he didn’t show it. “This is your destiny, Bard.” He said firmly. A smile didn’t brush across his face. “This is what you’re fate has called you to do. You are the only one that can carry out this task and I believe it was to be appointed to you well before you slayed that dragon. You can step down from this opportunity, but do not believe you will get the satisfaction you seek. Pull yourself together and think of a way to lead these people, because if you don’t, the future of Dale will be nothing more than a refugee camp.”

            With that Thranduil gently glided out the Great Hall. His silver hair brushed passed Bard where he could almost have it slip through his fingers. He left Bard to his decisions.

            A cold silence filled the hall when Thranduil left. Bard turned around once again to look at the throne, this time directly at it. All thoughts of dragon slaying and dragonfire have vanished Bard’s mind. All he was left with was the choice- to take up the crown of Dale and lead his people. Bard knew he needed to wake up, and thrust himself out of the pity he held for himself. Bard was to be King of Dale and not even Bard could come between what fate had predestined.


End file.
